A/N: Written for the numb3rs dot org Summer Alphabet Fanfiction Challenge.

G is for Goodbye

"It's not for long."

Charlie Eppes glared at his older brother from beneath long, silky lashes, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "You don't know that for sure," he replied petulantly.

Straightening from where he'd been digging through the bottom of his bedroom closet, Special Agent Don Eppes looked at his brother leaning against the bedroom wall and sighed. "Stop it, Charlie," he said. "You sound like a four-year-old."

"Do not." The mathematician pushed away from his spot against the wall and moved to sit on the edge of his brother's bed.

Don shook his head and knelt back down to rummage through his shoes again. "I rest my case." He moved a pair of brown oxfords to one side. "You remind me of the last time you got caught misbehaving."

Charlie lifted the flap on the box next to him and peered inside. He sat up with a jolt when his brother growled, "Charlie!"

"What?" He glanced over to where Don was still kneeling, his head in the closet. "I wasn't doing anything."

Pulling a pair of well-worn trainers from the closet triumphantly, Don turned to him. "You're always going through my stuff." When the younger man opened his mouth to protest, he added, "And no more about how my stuff is cooler than yours, either." Charlie's mouth closed with a snap. Don got to his feet and headed for the large duffle bag he'd left on the floor at the foot of his bed. "You're just going to have to get over it, you know."

Charlie lowered his gaze to the suitcase on the bed. "I know," he murmured. In a stronger voice, he asked, "What did Dad say?"

"What was he going to say?" Don countered. "I'm a grown man – he's not going to tell me what to do."

Levering himself off of the bed, Charlie began to pace in agitation. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"A week," Don replied, zipping up the bag. "Maybe two."

"And you can't tell me where you're going, or what you'll be doing?" Charlie demanded. "What if something happens while you're gone?" He stopped and pointed at Don. "What if Dad gets sick?" he asked, satisfied he'd found the one thing that would break his brother's resolve.

Don merely glanced at him as he walked to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. "Call the office," he said shortly. "They'll find me."

Scrubbing his hands through his already unruly curls, Charlie practically whined, "Don!"

"Knock it off," his brother snapped. "Just… stop it, alright? I don't need this!"

The young genius stared at his brother in silence for a moment before saying, "Just answer me one question, then."

Don tossed several pairs of rolled-up socks into his suitcase. "What?" he growled.

"Why not take your cell?"

His brother stared at him speculatively for almost a full minute before replying. "Because," he said slowly. "It wouldn't get reception – there, you happy now?"

Nodding his head emphatically the younger man said, "Much."

"I want you to promise me something now." Don stepped closer and set his hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"What?"

"Promise me first," Don insisted.

Charlie's eyes narrowed in speculation. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?" His brother stared at him in silence. "All right, all right," he relented. "I promise. What?"

Don shook him gently. "Don't try to figure out where I am, okay?"

Groaning, the younger man shrugged out of his brother's embrace. "Dirty play, Don."

"Yeah, well," Don lifted his shoulders slightly and turned back to his packing. "Whatever works."

"Will you at least try to phone once in a while?"

Looking up at his brother, a slow smile spreading over his face, Don replied, "Okay, Buddy. I'll try."

-x-x-x-x-x-

It had been five days since Don's departure and the remaining members of the Eppes family were beginning to worry. Neither Alan nor Charlie spoke of their concern over Don's absence, but the tension felt whenever the phone rang was palpable. One of them would hurriedly grab the receiver while the other hovered anxiously, waiting to see who was on the other end. Invariably they'd be disappointed, the caller being either a friend or local establishment, but never Don.

Which was why that evening when the phone rang, Charlie was astounded to hear his brother's voice amidst the loud background noise saying, "Charlie? Is that you?"

"Don!" the mathematician cried joyously. "Yes! It's me!" He looked up to see his father standing nearby, a wide grin on his face. "Dad's here, too," he added. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Don yelled into the phone. "I just wanted to call and see how you guys were holding up."

Charlie tilted the receiver so Alan could hear as well. "We're good," he called back. "Dad's listening."

"Donny?" Alan said into the phone. "How are you, son?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Don shouted. The noise almost drowned out his next words. "…Longer than I thought."

"What?" Charlie said. "Say that again, Don – we didn't hear you."

"I said," he replied, pausing as a roar sounded in the background. "I'm going to be gone longer than I thought."

Alan hollered into the phone. "How much longer, Don?"

"What?"

"How much longer?" the older man repeated. "Do you know?"

"Ah…" There was a pause as the roaring sound came through again. "Couple of weeks, I think."

Glancing at Charlie, Alan said, "You be careful, Don. You hear me?"

"I will, Dad," Don shouted back. "Put Charlie on, okay? I love you."

Alan called, "I love you, too, son," before handing the receiver to Charlie.

"Don," he said. "I'm here."

Don hesitated a moment. "Charlie… You been keeping your promise?"

Rubbing his forehead in frustration he replied, "Yes, I have."

"Good." Another pause. "Listen, Buddy. I've been thinking about what you said – about maybe something happening while I'm gone."

Charlie frowned. "And?"

"And I've decided…" The roar came again over Don's next words. "…Look through my stuff."

"I haven't!" the mathematician insisted.

"No, no!" Don shouted. "If I don't call you in the next two weeks, I want you to."

"What? Don…"

"I've gotta go, Charlie," he interrupted. "Just… take care of yourself and look after Dad, alright?'

"Don, wait…"

"Goodbye, Charlie." The phone clicked and the dial tone sounded in his ear.

Charlie stared at the receiver for a moment before setting it back on the base.

"Well?" Alan asked. "What did he say?"

Schooling his features, Charlie replied, "He said he'll try to call again sometime in the next two weeks."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The time came and went, and still there was no contact from Don. As the days passed, Charlie and Alan kept themselves busy with their work and daily tasks, but they still scrambled for the phone every time it rang.

Four days after the two-week anniversary of the agent's last phone call, Charlie phoned his father to say he wouldn't be home until after supper.

"I'll throw it in the oven for you then," Alan said dejectedly. "I think I'll turn in early, so don't wake me up when you get in, alright?"

Assuring him that he wouldn't, Charlie disconnected and headed for his brother's apartment. He hadn't been there since the day of Don's departure, and had never been there when the older man wasn't home. Charlie let himself into the darkened hallway with the key Don had left for him feeling as though he were trespassing. He hesitated before flipping on the lights and shoving the key ring into his jacket pocket. Glancing around, he was stunned to realize that nothing about the place had changed. Mentally scolding himself for the thought – Of course it hasn't changed. Why would it? – Charlie made his way down to his brother's bedroom.

On the bed right where it had sat on that last night was the box Don had told him not to touch. At the time Charlie had wondered why his brother hadn't taken it with him or put it away, but Don had merely shrugged and said, "It's not going anywhere. I can do that when I get back." He'd pointedly locked the door between Charlie and the offending carton and steered him toward the elevator. Now he knew: his brother wanted it easy for Charlie to find, should the need arise.

Fighting down a feeling of panic, Charlie turned on the bedside lamp and sat on the bed. He stared at the box, unwilling now to see its contents. It wasn't a very big box – no more than a foot on each side – but to the young genius it loomed larger than anything else in the room.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, one leg folded beneath him, just staring at the cardboard container. Finally he reached out and drew it toward him slowly. Charlie rested his hands on the top of the box briefly before taking a deep breath and pulling the flaps apart.

He jumped as the shrill sound of his cell phone echoed through the room. Hastily drawing it out of his pocket with trembling fingers, Charlie flipped it open and set it to his ear. "He – hello?" he said.

"Hey, Chuck."

Charlie thought he was going to pass out as a wave of light-headedness washed over him. "Don?"

His brother chuckled warmly. "Yeah, it's me, Buddy."

"Where…" Charlie swallowed. His mouth was dry. "Where are you?" he finally managed.

Don paused. "I'm at your place."

Rubbing his hand over his cheek, Charlie stammered, "You – you're home?"

"Yeah, I'm home. Where are you?"

Glancing down at the box, Charlie flushed. "I'm… that is, I was…"

"Charlie," Don interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Get your butt home," his older brother commanded. "Oh, and Charlie?"

Charlie paused in the act of refolding the flaps on the box. "Yeah, Don?"

"Stay out of my stuff."